


Blame

by Merlinites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief, Pain, Recovery, Sad, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlinites/pseuds/Merlinites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine survives Morgana's questioning, but then has to deal with the loss of his king and best friend. <br/>Gwen, Leon, and Percival are not faring well, either. <br/>Will they be able to come together again? Or will their self-directed blame be the end of their family?</p>
<p>I am not very good at writing synopses. :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arthurpendragcn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=arthurpendragcn).



> I asked for fic requests on Tumblr, and arthurpendragcn said: Will you write one of Gwaine/Percival where Gwaine survives Morgana’s questioning and they have to deal with Arthur’s death? I just want to see more vulnerability in their characters and the friendship that they built on that as well as the jesting and camaraderie that’s shown in the show.  
> I hope this is what you wanted!

It had been two weeks since Arthur’s death, and Gwaine had not slept through one night following that fateful day. Even though he knew that his admission of Arthur’s whereabouts to Morgana was not the ultimate cause of his king’s death, he could not help but bear the heavy weight of guilty upon his shoulders wherever he went. Which, ironically enough, was nowhere. For two weeks, Gwaine had dismissed his knightly duties, and had spent every waking minute in his rooms. He simply could not muster up the desire to move. Or talk. Or bathe. He couldn’t bear to do anything.

And it wasn’t only Arthur who was gone. Merlin was also gone. _Merlin_. The serious to Gwaine’s fickle. The magic to Gwaine’s mundane. The ground to Gwaine’s flight. Gwaine’s best friend was gone, and he simply couldn’t bear the loss of two members of his family. There were only three of them left; four, if you counted Gwen. And what was left of their once great family was falling apart.

Percival was never at the castle. No one knew where he went, but whenever he returned, he was bloody and beaten.

Gwen hadn’t smiled once since Arthur’s demise. Gwaine suspected that she was also forgoing sleep, for the dark rings beneath her eyes were ever present.

Leon never left Gwen’s side. It was as if he believed that if he left her for a moment, she would disappear. But he never spoke. He had not spoken in those two weeks.

Gwaine wasn’t even sure if you could call them a family any more.

+

Gwaine woke to screaming. He wasn’t even aware he had fallen asleep. And he only realised that he was the one screaming when his throat began to burn. Slowly, he ceased the sound. This happened every night, and was the reason he couldn’t sleep.

_I’m the reason they’re gone. I’m the reason Arthur is dead, and that Merlin isn’t coming back. It’s all my fault._

The door to his chambers swung open, slamming against the stone wall loudly. Startled, Gwaine grabbed for his sword, which was always beside him now. Upon seeing the intruder, he lowered his weapon.

“Percival?” he asked, confused. Percival was never in the castle at night.

The other knight was breathing heavily, beaten as always, but holding his sword as if he meant to run someone through.

“I heard screaming. What is it? Who’s here?” Percival’s voice was shaking with each word.

Gwaine raised his hands. “It was me. I was screaming. And no one’s here, P. It’s just me.”

Percival raised an eyebrow at him. “Why were you screaming, Gwaine?”

Gwaine’s gaze fell to the bed sheet. “No reason,” he answered. “And what about you? Where are you every night?”

This time, it was Percival’s gaze that was cast down. “No reason.”

The two men then stared at each other in silence, neither willing to admit that the loss of their friends was affecting them so greatly. And then Percival spun on his heel, slammed Gwaine’s door behind him, and disappeared.

Sighing, Gwaine flopped backwards onto his bed. How could any of them move on if they were never willing to talk about it?

+

The next morning, after lying awake for hours, Gwaine decided that things were going to change. Percival was going to stop beating himself up (literally and figuratively), Gwen was going to smile, Leon was going to talk, and Gwaine himself was going to get out of bed.

Following an hours-long bath, Gwaine was ready and dressed for his task. First up was Gwen. Gwaine knew that the queen spent all of her time in the court since her ascension to the throne. Since Arthur was barely in there when he ruled Camelot, Gwaine presumed that Gwen spent her time in there to prevent excess reminders of her lost love.

Upon seeing Gwaine enter the room, Gwen’s eyebrows shot up. She rose from the throne, her dark dress swirling against the floor.

“Gwaine!” she cried, rushing towards the knight.

Gwaine wrapped his arms around the queen, trying to ignore the shaking her frame emitted. Gwen raised her head to look him in the eye, and her own eyes were wet with tears.

“Where have you _been_?” she asked.

Casting a quick glance to Leon, who stood behind the throne, and still had not yet said a word, Gwaine shrugged. “Bed?” he replied.

The corner of Gwen’s lips tugged upwards.

_Almost_.

She swatted his arm and narrowed her eyes at him. “Well I hope you know how worried we’ve all been. When was the last time you ate something?”

Gwaine shrugged again. “It’s been a while since I left my chambers.”

Gwen shook her head, and took his arm. Together they walked to the dining room, where a lavish breakfast was laid on the table. Gwen’s silent guard (aka Leon) followed them all the way there, his gaze focussed eerily ahead.

At first, Gwaine did try to eat with some elegance. But after a few bites, and grumbles from his stomach, he was shovelling food into his mouth like a man dying of starvation. Fork halfway to his mouth, he heart a choking sound. When he tried to determine where it had come from, he saw that Gwen was shaking again. Worried that she was crying, Gwaine made a move to go to her, but the queen shook her head. It was then that Gwaine realised that Gwen was _laughin g_. That choked sound was her laugh. He could barely believe it.

“Gwen, you sound like you’re dying,” he commented.

This caused the choking sound to rise in volume. Gwen was clutching her stomach, and covering her mouth.

“I’m – s-s-sorry,” she managed. “I d-d-don’t even know why I’m l-l-laughing!”

Gwaine didn’t care _why_ the queen was laughing, just that she was laughing at all.

“It’s because of my charm, your majesty. Or have you forgotten my winning personality in the weeks I’ve been … detained?” Gwaine said, smirking.

Gwen smiled at him, and Gwaine felt his heart rise. _She’s smiling – smiling!_

“How I have missed you, Gwaine,” she said, sobering. Her voice was laced with sadness.

“I have missed you as well, Gwen. I’m sorry.”

The queen’s eyes filled with tears.

“Arthur would be proud of how you’re ruling Camelot. With fairness, and justice. Just like he did. I am sure he is smiling over you.”

The tears escaped Gwen’s eyes, and feel silently down her cheeks.

“I have never needed to hear anything more in my life, Gwaine. I sometimes wonder if I am doing everything as he would. I want to act as he would. I want his memory to live on through me, through all of Camelot.”

“Gwen, you are doing everything he would have. You are doing an incredible job, my queen.”

She smiled sadly. “Oh, stop. You’ve never called me anything beyond ‘Gwen’ the entire time I’ve known you. You cannot start now.”

Gwaine grinned. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Gwaine!”

“Yes, my queen?”

Gwen picked up a breakfast roll and looked ready to throw it at Gwaine’s face when a knight arrived to inform the queen that she was needed for council.

On her way out, she placed a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

+

Not surprisingly, Gwaine was exhausted after the few minutes away from his bed, and found his way back to it before long.

_Morgana leans in towards him. “Tell me where Arthur is, or I’ll kill you.”_

_Gwaine looks into the sorceress’s eyes, steeling his gaze. “I’d rather die.”_

_“That can be arranged.”_

Gwaine awoke, covered in sweat. Morgana’s words echoed through his mind ‘I _will_ kill Arthur, if it’s the last thing I do.’ It wasn’t the last thing she did, but Gwaine couldn’t help feeling responsible. If only he’d been closer to Arthur on the battlefield. If only he’d seen through Mordred. If only, if only, if only.

_Your turn, Leon._

Gwaine made his way to Gwen’s chambers, knowing that Leon would be on guard outside them. And he was right.

Leon raised one pale eyebrow at the knight’s approach, but did not open his mouth.

“Leon,” Gwaine said in greeting. “How are you tonight?”

Gwaine laughed at the look of contempt in Leon’s eyes.

“Come on, buddy,” he said, clapping the other knight on the shoulder. “Talk to me! Haven’t you missed my scintillating conversation at all?”

No response.

“Dear god. Someone’s cut out your tongue, haven’t they?” Gwaine stepped forward, placing his hands on either side of Leon’s head.

The look in Leon’s eyes could kill, but Gwaine was insistent.

“Open it up. I want to see the damage.”

Leon attempted to thwart Gwaine, but he was no match.

“Gwaine!” he cried, hoarse.

Gwaine stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. “What was that? I think I heard a kitten mewl.”

“Gwaine,” Leon repeated, his tone threatening.

“You _can_ speak! Thank the earth,” Gwaine grinned.

Leon glared at the knight.

“Oh come on, don’t stop again!”

Gwaine could have sworn that Leon ‘hmph’d in response.

“Look,” he started, flicking a piece of dark hair off his forehead. “I know we’re all struggling. Look at me. This is my first time out of bed in weeks. But we need you, Leon. You’re the one that can keep us together, I know it.”

Leon’s eyes glazed over.

“You have to keep us together,” Gwaine insisted.

“But I failed him,” Leon whispered.

Gwaine shook his head. “You failed no one.”

“But I did. I was Arthur’s right hand. I should have been protecting him in battle. I should have taken Mordred’s sword. _I_ should have died, not Arthur. It’s all my fault.”

“What’s happened has happened. It was not your fault, nor Gwen’s, nor mine, nor Percival’s. Fate took our king, Leon.”

The other knight looked sceptical at this response.

“We _need_ you, Leon. Gwen needs you _alive_ , not some walking ghost of a guard. She needs your help with ruling Camelot, just like Arthur did. And I need you to get my butt into gear. And Percival needs you to rein him in. We need you to lead. We need you.”

Leon lowered his head, hand over his heart. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He looked into Gwaine’s brown eyes. “Okay, I will lead. I will talk. I will hold us together.”

Gwaine threw his arm around the other knight in triumph.

+

Screams. Screams of pure pain. Of torture.

Gwaine awoke to his own screams again. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession. This time he had dreamt that _he_ was the one to plunge the sword into Arthur. Even though he knew it was not real, that _he had not killed Arthur_ , the dream terrified him.

Again, the doors to his chambers were thrown open. Again it was Percival, face and arms covered in blood. Again he asked why Gwaine was screaming.

“P,” he breathed.

Percival made his way over to the bed, settling down on the edge. “What is it, Gway?”

Gwaine shook his head, embarrassed to admit he hadn’t been sleeping because of _nightmares_. He wasn’t a child.

Percival hummed in annoyance. “Please, tell me. You cannot be screaming like that for no reason.”

Gwaine looked at him defiantly. “And you cannot LOOK like that for no reason! Why are you bloodied every night, P? Why?”

Percival’s brow furrowed. “I fight.”

Unfortunately, Gwaine was not entirely surprised by this answer. “Why?” he whispered.

“Because,” Percival started. “Because the last time I fought, I lost. I lost Arthur. I nearly lost you. I fight to know that I can win next time. That I won’t lose anyone else because I am not good enough.”

It struck Gwaine, then. That each and every one of them blamed themselves for Arthur’s death, and in different ways.

“I have nightmares,” he breathed. “Sometimes Morgana kills Arthur, sometimes _I_ kill Arthur. But it’s always the same. Arthur _always_ dies.”

Gwaine heard Percival’s loud sigh.

“It was not your fault, Gway.”

“And it was not yours, either, P.”

The knights looked at each other in defiance, both determined to believe it was _their_ fault that their king was no longer with them. A few seconds passed and then they burst into laughter.

“We’re fighting about whose fault it was!” cried Percival.

“It was neither of our faults, P,” Gwaine replied, sobering.

Percival nodded. “I know. But I need somewhere to direct the blame, and it’s easiest to direct it towards myself.”

Gwaine knew that all too well.

“I miss Merlin, too. And I wonder what he’s doing. He’d be blaming himself more than any of us.”

“I think,” Percival started, “that they will meet again one day.”

Gwaine believed that, too. It was too saddening to think otherwise.

“I hope we all meet again one day,” Gwaine said softly.

“But for now, we have each other.”

Percival placed one hand on top of Gwaine’s. Their eyes met.

“For now.”

 


End file.
